


I'm dying

by 221bPhan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Omegle Roleplay, Roleplay, Sad, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:53:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6370195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bPhan/pseuds/221bPhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn't feel all too well... Not at all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm dying

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unfinished role-playing thing I did on omegle, but feel free to make more if you want to. The paragraphs change between John and Sherlock, Sherlock being the first message. I wrote John's parts, but I unfortunately didn't get who wrote Sherlock's parts name. If you come across this, then hey, hope you don't mind I posted this.

I'm dying John. I'm sorry.-SH

Sherlock! Where are you! -JW

I'm at the flat.-SH

I-I'm coming, be there right away -JW

Okay. I just.. I'm sorry. I promised.-SH

William Sherlock Scott Holmes do not die on me. -JW

[Long Delay] I'm trying not to. Willpower isn't helping too much.-SH

Please. [Sniffles] You're the only friend I truly love. Please, stay alive, for me. -JW

I'm trying John, only because of you you know. I'm trying.-SH

[Arrives At Flat] [Yelling] Sherlock! I'm coming up! Hold on! -JW

Sherlock lay on the couch, sweating profusely. His breathing and pulse were both racing and his fingers and hands twitched uncontrollably. He was close to nearing another seizure. "John." He he said in a pained pant. "John..."  
[Opens door] Sherlock! Sherlock! Stay with me! [Turns SH's Body To Side] Don't go, stay with me! They're coming, I can hear the sirens! God, please let him stay with us! Just, Sherlock, be okay. [Lets Out Tear] -JW

Sherlock looked as if he'd been previously crying, but his face was set sternly, trying to keep himself together. Another quick seizure passed through, his heartrate climbing even higher. This wasn't good at all. "I love you John." He said flatly, a sad smile playing on Sherlocks lips. Those were some not bad last words in his mind.

John was in tears, he couldn't help it. "I love you too, I will love you forever, Sherlock." He barely whispered against Sherlock's cheek, which was getting extremely pale. The ambulance pulled up, and John carried Sherlock into the vehicle. No matter how much the staff bugged him, he would not leave his companion alone. Not in his greatest time of need, not in a million years would he or could he in times of danger. He had to be safe.

Sherlock with the only control he had, held onto the edge of John's sleeve. Making sure he was there. He was hyperventilating and trying not to cry, only knowing it would make things worse. He looked at John, seeing how scared he looked. "I didn't... I never meant to hurt you. I didn't realize..." He trailed off as medics strapped an oxygen mask over his face.

John suddenly looked down at Sherlock with a sad expression with seriousness barely visible. "Don't ever think that you would disappoint me, or hurt me. I don't care about how I feel because goddamnit, right now you are the center of my universe. I don't care if you were to insult me, make a joke about me, get me fired. I don't care. I just want you to be happy, and I will not leave your side until your health is better and you are happier. I want to help you. Please, just don't feel pressured, but for my sake, be well. Be happy. Be the best you can. I love you, and I support you, and you just need to stay with us. Please, just stay." John said all of this while sniffling, but after his speech, a nurse clapped and then everybody else joined in too. Except for Sherlock, as he physically couldn't do much.

Sherlock cracked the slightest of smiles for a brief second, still shaking badly and having barely any control of his muscles. He gripped his mask hard, lifting it so John could hear him speak. "This...this is me. I'd attempt to explain this brain of mine, but I can't. All I can say is that you're the only reason" he said, taking a second to breathe. "That I'm not actually dead and it's not because you called 999. Simply existing is more like it. But, it hurts being me. A lot, as far as a cocaine overdose, that makes you feel /better/." He said, his voice breaking on the last word. John had to know how bad he really was, how desperate.

John continued crying at Sherlock's side, everything making his head hurt. He knew he loved Sherlock, and now Sherlock said he loved him, but now he might not survive. It gave John the slightest bit of joy knowing he was the reason Sherlock was alive because of John, and he thought about how feelings are amazing yet terrifying at the same time. They can make or break a life. "I might not know how your highly intelligent self thinks, does things, why you do things, but I will tell you this. You don't need those drugs, they can kill you. I can kill you too, but the difference between me killing you and those drugs killing you is I have a choice of killing you. I, John Hamish Watson, will not kill you for a million pounds or more. Please, if there's a next time where you want to do these horrible things, just come to me. I won't kill you. They will. Please, don't do anything that can harm you. I don't want to live to see the day where you die. I will kill myself before you die. Please, Sherlock, just don't do them anymore. Also, I know you're trying really hard right now but try. Try for me, for you, and for every person in this universe who cares about you, try to stay awake. Try to see another day. You're a human being, you have a future, so just please don't go." He struggled making sense of his sentences at this point, repeating words over and over. Sherlock was his world, and suddenly it was completely crashing down.

Sherlock's heart broke right there. He couldn't stop it he sobbed. He sobbed and his vitals rose and he held John's hand tightly. "That's the problem John. It only hurts all the more. I... I'm a broken man, and I don't see the point in picking up the pieces. I don't even want to. I want to give up, but I'm holding on for you. I'm still the selfish bastard I am because I can't stop it. And I want to and honestly living barely has a purpose to me anymore. I just don't want to hurt you and that hurts me. Tough love I guess." He said through his tears, curling up as much as he could on the stretcher.

John looked down at the crying man. "You don't have to fix your pieces, Sherlock this is what you don't understand. I can fix every piece for you, you really don't have to do anything. You could just lie there and die. You know why you're not dying? Because you are thinking of me, and you are not a selfish bastard. You can be tough to deal with sometimes, but no matter what, you are never going to be completely broken. To be completely broken is to be dead, and as long as I am alive, you will be alive too. I will go anywhere and everywhere you need me to go when we are old and weak, I will work so you can retire and rest at home, I will do everything for you. I will fight for you, fight with a willpower stronger than that of a million warriors. Because I love you, I love you, I love you. I can't put it any simpler. I swear to god Sherlock, I will fight for you and love you and fix you until you're completely fixed. Don't you say I can't fix you, I will, I don't care how or if it's scientifically possible, I will do it. I will do the impossible for you. Just fight now, this is the only fight I've yet to know how to fix. Please continue doing what you're doing right now, because in a few years time, it will be worth it. I promise." John breathed heavily, his anxiety going through the roof as time passed. He couldn't explain how it felt in words, and if he could, it would scar anyone who read it.

Sherlock just frowned, and stared up at the inner roof of the ambulance. "You don't get it. You can't and I'd never want you to get it. Because if you did, we might be in eachothers shoes. This was the only time I've ever had second thoughts after..." He didn't finish the sentence, leaving it to the imagination. "It may seem hopeful, but that's not good. With me you've got to be the pessimist because goddamn it, you are the only fucking thing worth living for. I'm an ass, and a freak, and I don't want to be the burden to everyone else I know. I've had closer calls than this that were dealt by my own hand. Just a few years ago, I technically died in Gregs arms. My heart stopped. The people that do care about me shouldn't because I'll fuck everything up like I'll always do. I'll hurt them. And while you want me alive so badly, I don't want to hurt you but it will happen either way." He said sounding angry with himself and bad for John. He hated this so badly.

"Sherlock Mother Fucking Holmes you are not an ass or a freak and you do not burden anyone anymore than the average human. I might not get the things that you do, or why, but again, I don't need to. You need to think for yourself on a few things, because you are most likely the smartest human anywhere humans have gone. And what do you mean second thoughts after what? I really don't want you to answer that now, it's not important, so just forget it. I watched the footage of when you were momentarily dead, and I cried before you woke up. Then we saw the footage of when you woke up, and you were mumbling my name. At that time I was confused as to why you would call your best friend's name after being dead, but then the monitor picked up a heartbeat again. When you opened your eyes again, they looked full of pain. Pain and suffering. I don't want that look in your eyes much anymore, not at all if possible. I love you. Why would I love you if you were all of those things you called yourself? You're literally just bringing yourself down even more than the normal person. You are perfect, the perfect human, great intelligence and looks, but your self-esteem needs a bit of work. These are the things that you can fix and that are making you broken. I honestly don't know what you think makes me so great either. I'm an average weight, I punched you when you said you were alive, I made the stupid decision of getting a mustache. Without you I'm no better than you are without me. We are meant to be together, rather being best friends or in a romantic relationship. So no, you are not the mess. We are the mess. I'm the mess that can't live without you, the seemingly perfect mess. Everyone's broken in some way, so don't degrade yourself calling yourself broken. I know I'm broken, I've been in the war for gods sake. I've seen millions of people get injured and die. But guess what? You help me get rid of those memories. Because you are my perfect mess."

"John. I'm glad you think so highly of me. I love you more than anything on this earth but I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm a severely depressed, suicidal, sociopath with anxiety and an addiction to multiple drugs. I insult everybody, and while I may be smart I'd trade it all just to be fucking normal. I want to kill my brain. It runs so fast, and I can't keep up. Drugs slow it but I want to stop it. My 'intelligent' brain is saying you should die because hey, look at the actual facts. If I was right about anything, it's this. I'd rather have people hate me than love me. Because if you love me I become a catch. I become a weight. I don't do anything, for anyone but myself that's remotely positive. Hell, I don't do positive things for myself. Honestly, John, look at me. I'm the definition of broken because I don't want to be put back together. I want to fall apart and I want to stay that way. Caring is not an advantage and hope is just optimism at its most idiotic. You're smarter than that. I don't deserve you're love because one day I will completely trash it. I know it and while I don't want that, It will happen." He said, his hand no longer at his control and his calf muscles stiff.


End file.
